


Worse Things

by niffizzle



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Past One-Night Stand, With a Hint of More
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-17
Updated: 2019-03-17
Packaged: 2019-11-18 06:13:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18114932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niffizzle/pseuds/niffizzle
Summary: In the midst of Ginny and Blaise's engagement party, Hermione is busy dealing with a bitter Ron.  That is until they're interrupted by the soon-to-be Best Man.





	Worse Things

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PartyLines](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PartyLines/gifts).



> Written for PartyLines. Hope this brings a smile to your face!! And as always, thanks to mhcalamas and LightofEvolution for their alpha/beta help :)

“I still can’t believe it,” Ron grumbled, downing the rest of his champagne flute.

“Not that you ever had a say in it before, but there’s certainly nothing you can do about it now,” Hermione said. She set her own glass down on the high table, next to her plate of hors d'oeuvres. “Just because she’s your younger sister, doesn’t give you any right to dictate the choices that she makes.”

Ron’s upper lip twitched. “Alright, but did it have to be _him_?”

Hermione followed Ron’s gaze to the other side of the ballroom where Ginny was beaming at her newly announced fiance. It had taken several months for Hermione to warm up to the dark complexioned wizard -- and the same amount of time for him to do the same -- but now that it had been nearly two years since he and Ginny had begun dating, Hermione no longer had any qualms about Blaise Zabini.

The former Slytherin’s familial home was predictably ornate. It was no secret that the wizard was wealthy. After all of his mother’s marriages, they had accumulated an impressive sum in their Gringotts vault, and it was evident that they hadn’t spared any expense in the engagement celebration.

The dulcet sounds of the enchanted violins and violas filled the lavish space while the twinkling glow of fairies illuminated from above. Around them, several display trays were filled with fine cuisines that normally would have sparked Ron’s immediate interest, but the firm frown on his face indicated that he was still too preoccupied with his disapproval to touch any of it. It was moments like this that Hermione was reminded why she had decided to keep things platonic with him.

No one else in the room was even half as distressed as Ron at the impending nuptials. Mr Weasley was happily chatting with Xenophilius Lovegood while Mrs Weasley scurried from guest to guest to make sure that she welcome every one of them. Even Harry appeared to be enjoying himself, although that could just be because he had spent the past thirty minutes speaking with Daphne Greengrass who looked particularly pretty that evening in her shimmering lilac dress robes.

Ron seemed to have noticed the same conversation, undoubtedly wondering to himself for the hundredth time why things hadn’t worked out between his best friend and his sister. But almost everyone had changed in the aftermath of the war, most notably their classmates who had fought for the other side.

“You can’t keep sulking about this if you never give Blaise a proper chance,” Hermione said with a sigh. “The war is long over and things are different now. Can’t you just accept that they’re in love?”

“I give it three years.”

A drawling voice loomed from behind them, and Ron and Hermione turned around to meet the familiar smug, taunting expression of Draco Malfoy.

Ron scoffed. “Oh, great. Just what this evening was missing. The insufferable ferret himself.”

“Always such a pleasure, Weasley,” Malfoy said through a subtle sneer, likely the closest he could manage without being overly impolite at such a formal function. His sense of disdain was placated when he turned to face Hermione. “ _Granger_.”

Her last name rolled off his tongue like a delicious purr as his pewter eyes locked with hers. The upper edges of his lips were tugged into a smirk, and Hermione couldn’t hold back the compulsory eye roll at his presence.

“You know, that’s not a very nice thing for one of the ushers to say,” Hermione retorted, even if she did mentally acknowledge that he was (most likely) joking.

“Correction. Best Man,” Malfoy proudly returned. He stepped closer so he was now standing situated between Hermione and Ron around the table. “And let me guess. The future Mrs Blaise Zabini has asked _you_ to be Maid of Honour?”

“Yes, she has,” Hermione replied, her words curt as she spoke. “And I accepted.”

Malfoy grinned, resting his elbows on the tabletop and leaning in towards Hermione. “In that case, it sounds like you and I will be seeing a lot more of each other in the upcoming months.” His grin grew wider. “Perhaps even some more one-on-one time?”

A suggestive glint glimmered in Malfoy’s eyes, prompting an involuntary wave of heat to prickle through Hermione at the resulting memory. Her eyes darted towards Ron, grateful to discover that he no longer seemed to be listening to their conversation, his attention reverted to his sister who now had her arms draped around Blaise’s shoulders. The wizard’s hands inched down Ginny’s back and cupped her behind, sparking a flash of outrage from Ron.

“Oh, for the love of Merlin!” Ron exclaimed, the tips of his ears growing pink. “I can’t bloody look at this!”

Much to Hermione’s relief, Ron stormed to a distant part of the room, providing her with sufficient privacy to properly scold Malfoy.

“I thought you and I agreed to never bring that night up again,” she said as soon as Ron was sufficiently far away, astutely aware that the heat of her cheeks was starting to spread down her neck.

“You may have suggested that be the case, but I don’t remember agreeing,” Malfoy returned. “Is the memory of what happened between us really that repulsive to you, or are you just scared of how your friends might react if they ever found out?”

Hermione frowned. “This has nothing to do with my friends!” she defended with a huff. “Ron can remain as narrow-minded as he wants, and since you haven’t seemed to notice, Harry already appears to be changing his opinions towards certain Slytherins. But none of that addresses the fact that you and I were merely drunk and --”

“What does it matter that you and I _happened_ to be drunk?” Malfoy interrupted, his own frustrations starting to become apparent. “You’re just going to pretend as if you and I didn’t have a fantastic night together?”

Hermione wrinkled her nose. “That’s not the point.”

“Then what is?”

“That you and I have too complicated of a history for this to ever truly work,” she said, voicing the belief that had been tainting her thoughts the past few weeks.

And yet, as Hermione said it, she caught a vaguely familiar sparkle in Malfoy’s eye that propelled her back to the evening in question.

Malfoy was right; it _had_ been a fantastic night.

Shortly after Blaise had popped the question and Ginny had instantly agreed, Hermione and Harry had dragged an incredibly miffed Ron to the Three Broomsticks where the freshly engaged couple shared their elation with their closest friends. Several other former Hogwarts students had also been in attendance, including Theo Nott, Pansy Parkinson, and, as entirely expected, Malfoy. Hermione certainly wasn’t a stranger to seeing him nowadays, but even in group settings, they had tended to avoid one another. It was simply habit by this point.

But something about that evening had been different. Blame it on the spirit of camaraderie at their friends’ announcement or on the multiple rounds of shots that Blaise demanded that everyone join in, but regardless of the cause, she and Malfoy had spent all night chatting. Even more surprising was the fact that Hermione actually _enjoyed_ talking with him. 

The revelry had continued nearly all evening long, and once the couple had left to partake in their own personal celebration while Harry ushered home a completely knackered Ron, Hermione had opted to stay behind so she could finish her conversation with Malfoy about the latest issue of _Transfiguration Today_. After all, they had just started discussing the merits behind conjuring charm limitations.

That was all she had intended to happen. Honestly. An amicable conversation with the wizard who had once despised everything about her. But then, one thing led to another and…

Hermione shook her head, ridding the memory from her mind. “You and I may see each other on rare occasion for the sake of Blaise and Ginny, but that doesn’t mean that you and I are friends, let alone could become anything more.”

“Yet you haven’t given me a sufficient reason as to why that is,” Malfoy objected. His fingernails dug into the linen tablecloth as he peered straight at Hermione. “You and I have a history, yes. I cannot deny the horrible things I have done. All I can do is try to move forward and prove myself a better man. Clearly you must have accepted that Blaise has sufficiently changed his ways considering you have deemed him worthy of your friend’s hand in marriage. So what’s it going to take to prove to you that I have done the same?”

Underneath his jet black dress robes, Hermione could faintly detect the shallow rise and fall of Malfoy’s chest. Perhaps more notable was the way his hands trembled as his grip on the tablecloth grew tighter. 

The rational part of her brain knew that on some level, he was right (for an irritating second time in a matter of a few minutes). While not to the same extent, Blaise had similarly subscribed to that antiquated ideology. Even so, it had taken Hermione several months to finally accept the wizard and his apology.

But to do the same with Malfoy?

Since their night together, Hermione had been struggling with the possibility of that very thought. Had that night been with anyone else, Hermione wouldn’t have questioned her interest. Yes, their conversation had been intellectually stimulating, but there had been something more there than just that. And she should have known that the second her heart leapt with an unexpected jolt of excitement when he first placed his hand on her thigh.

When she had awoken the next morning, her mind throbbing half from the hangover, half from the startle of waking up beside him, Hermione had deemed it best for them to never speak about it and pretend it hadn’t happened. After all, surely that’s what he wanted as well. It had been a drunken night of passion fueled by the confounding variable of their friends getting engaged.

It meant nothing.

But as Malfoy continued to gaze at her, impatiently awaiting her response, Hermione began to question that. Yes, he was Draco Malfoy, and yes, their history together was complicated, but he was willing to prove that he was more than that.

“I’m not going to beg, Granger,” he said when Hermione still hadn’t uttered a response. “And even if you and I have never been friends, I still know you well enough to conclude that you’re currently overthinking this situation. Feel free to mentally debate this all evening long, but at the end of the night, I hope you come to the same conclusion I have.” He paused as he leaned in closer, his slow exhale just near enough for it to shift some of the loose strands of Hermione’s curls. “You can try to deny it, but there is a real potential between us, if only you give me the same proper chance to prove myself the way that you’ve given Blaise.”

Malfoy held his stare for a few lingering seconds before pushing himself off the table and turning from Hermione. He had barely begun to head back towards the high top table that Theo and Pansy were standing around when, unexpectedly, Hermione found herself calling after him.

“How about drinks next week?”

He paused and looked back at Hermione with one raised eyebrow, a grin starting to appear across his lips. “Oh?”

“But it’s not a date,” Hermione made sure to clarify, not inclined to completely submit to him just yet. “You and I merely need to meet to discuss potential details for the wedding considering you’re Best Man and I’m Maid of Honour.”

Malfoy released a short chuckle. “Not a date. Noted. And if that goes well?”

“Then I will potentially consider the possibility of us doing something else.”

Malfoy nodded, his grin growing wider. “If that’s what it takes, then I accept. For you, Granger, I’ll take whatever I can get right now.”

He threw her a quick, parting wink, and as he made his way back to the table of his former housemates, Hermione couldn’t resist her own grin forming on the edges of her lips. While not how she had originally intended the conversation to end, she wasn’t upset at the prospect of drinks with him. Maybe there _was_ a chance that they could become something more...

But before she could linger too long on the thought, Ron returned to her side, still positively fuming, but now with a filled plate of food.

“I don’t care how good these seared scallops are. I’ll never get over the fact that I’m going to have to deal with that bloke as my brother in law!” he ranted, shoving one in his mouth and swallowing harshly. “And did you see Harry chatting up one of those Greengrass girls? Since when do we fraternize with snakes? First Ginny, now Harry… What’s next? You start dating Malfoy?”

Hermione peered over at Malfoy’s table and found him already looking in her direction, meeting her gaze with a smile.

“You know, Ron, worse things have happened.”


End file.
